Seeds

Normal people are not usually dead, Annabelle knew this.

This did not stop her from walking towards the pretty dead man in front of her and pulling up a chilly eyelid.

Clearly, Annabelle should start thinking things through.

She took root in the spot just next to the body and stared.

He was old, she thought. Not really, but he was two times her age, and that seemed like too much time to her. His hair was the color of the sun and, this knowledge was found from the eyelid peeling from before, eyes as blue and swirly as a lava lamp. Annabelle knew that this man was very pretty. It almost made the usually emotionless girl flustered.

Almost.

Annabelle decided to start thinking about her future only now. Her future with this dead body, specifically.

Should she call the police? No. She didn't like that idea.

Should she call her mama? No. That was just as unappealing as the first.

Should she just leave the body here? No. That sounded just a hair from perfect.

Maybe... she thought. Maybe, she could move the body. Just a little ways away there was a sort of foresty area that'd probably keep the pretty man out of sight.

But how was she to get him there, she wondered. Annabelle was convincing herself to be the muscleman that Dreeville did not want, but needed, when a realization dawned upon her.

Wheelbarrows exist for just this reason. Well, not just this reason, but it would come especially handy for right now.

She scuttled with a speed and excitement that was not made known until just now, down the roadways and nearly ran the door through with the might she only then possessed.

That feeling of happy anxiety flipped off like a switch when she heard her mama giggle.

Mama didn't giggle. She wasn't like Granpop. She hated laughing, and there were only two ways Mama'd laugh willingly.

One, Granpop was in the room. Ruled out for obvious reasons.

Two, Father was home.

Annabelle didn't like her father. She didn't ever really know why. It's not like he did anything in particular. To be honest, she wanted to love him, wanted to not feel that unpleasant feeling when he tried to talk to her.

Her body never did like listening to her.

She stepped, slow as a tortoise, into the dining room. There was a pause in conversation and she knew that they noticed her.

"Annabelle. How nice it is to see you!!" He stood from one of the wooden chairs with a smile and began to step towards her. Annabelle often wondered if he knew how she felt about him. Did it hurt knowing your own daughter didn't love you? She flicked the feelings off like a clingy Junebug.

"Father, hello." He held her and there was a moment of no reciprocation. She waited for him to let go and turned to her mama.

"Mama, I'm gonna borrow the wheelbarrow."

There was a furrow in the older women's brow and a slight smile to her lips.

"Why do you need the wheelbarrow, honey-bun?"

There was a pause as Annabelle thought of an adequate response.

"I'll do some of your chores so you can talk to-" She thought of what to call her father for a split-second, the pause was unseen by human eyes. "-Dad."

Mama noticed nothing, while her father noticed everything. His eyebrows knit and his face grew confused. He said nothing.

She walked through the dining room and out the back door. She tossed the children's wheelbarrow over the picket fence before jumping over it herself.

Slowly, did she make her way back to the pretty man.